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Chapter 40

Clara felt terrible for the way she had been acting all weekend and yet she couldn't find it in her heart to just enjoy it. Not only were the hormones wrecking havoc with her body, no, the nausea she was constantly trying to suppress kept nagging her, making it impossible for her to even relax for an hour. John was making a real effort to make this weekend a nice one and yet the simplest thing caused her to lose it. And above all it annoyed her that John hadn't even mentioned moving back in with her with a single word. Of course he hadn't because that was not what he wanted, so it was fairly obvious that he wouldn't want their child either. Deep in her heart Clara knew that she had to tell him eventually, preferably sooner rather than later, but there was that deep rooted fear inside of her, that fear that the child they had wanted so much just a year ago would drive an even deeper rift between them until he ultimately left her for good.

Why did she have to get pregnant now? They had actively tried for over a year and even before that they had left out the protection because they wouldn't have minded a child. But it hadn't worked and Clara had even started to consider the possibility that she couldn't get pregnant at all. Well, she had obviously been wrong and now it was too late for regrets. John would be terrified and he would feel pressured and he would leave. Clara was certain of it. The only thing she could do now was to keep it a secret and postpone the inevitable.

Clara flinched when John suddenly took her hand and squeezed it softly. She hadn't even noticed him enter the kitchen.

"I've finished packing," he said and smiled gently, "You're making one last cup of tea?"

"That was the plan," she replied and forced a smile as well.

"I've been thinking," John went on while he closed his arms around her waist. Clara loved that feeling when he held her and she was afraid that it was going to end very soon. She would lose him, she knew she would. "Maybe next time we could go straight to Edinburgh. Just a few hours seemed a bit rushed for the entire city."

"Sounds good," she lied and uttered a sound of surprise when John suddenly lifted her up to sit on the counter. He bent forward until their lips brushed in a soft, gentle kiss and Clara almost melted away under his touch. He had been so perfect throughout the weekend, always asking whether she was alright, always being attentive, cooking her dinner, bringing her tea, even massaging her feet last night when they had felt sore after the walk.

Then John pulled away and looked at her, his expression serious now. "I'm sorry the weekend wasn't what you had expected."

"It's not your fault," she told him instantly. It really wasn't. It wasn't his fault that he had lost his memory and he couldn't find his way back into his old life. No one was to blame for that. Clara couldn't even be mad at him about it. There was just sadness and regret.

"I feel like it is," he argued and reached out to cup her face in his hands. This sweet gesture made her want to cry. "I could have tried harder. I could have. . . I don't know. Clara?"

She had tried to stop them, but the tears were already running down her cheeks. John was too sweet and the fear of losing him was growing too much to bear. Clara would never find another man like him. A single mother, sad, bitter – that was how she was going to end up.

"Hey, Clara, don't cry," he whispered softly as he wiped the tears from her face, "It's okay."

"No, it's not," she sobbed, "I'm sorry. I'm a mess."

He placed a swift kiss on her lips before he closed his arms around her in a warm embrace and Clara hugged him as tightly as she could. It would all go to ruin, just like John had feared. This weekend would have been the perfect opportunity for them to get closer, to talk about living together again, but he hadn't made a single move. Not one.

Clara said very little on their way home and she was glad that John didn't seem in a very talkative mood either. Or maybe he was just waiting for them to arrive at home to continue asking questions she didn't really want to answer just yet. There was no word that could express how terrified she was when she even thought about confessing her pregnancy to John, but she had to do it soon before it became obvious and he would figure it out on his own. Although, knowing John, that could probably take a while.

When finally they came to a halt after a long drive Clara heard John sigh next to her and she just knew that the discussion wasn't over.

"Would you like me to come inside?" he asked and to her surprise he was smiling at her.

Clara opened her mouth, but John cut her off before she even had a chance to speak.

"Okay, that look on your face tells me it's a no," he added.

"Sorry," Clara apologized.

John inhaled sharply and raised his hands to his head, rubbing his face, before he stared at the house ahead of them. Their house. The house that John refused to move back into.

"Are you absolutely sure it's nothing that I've done?" he asked her and he sounded desperate. John turned his head to look at her. "Something that I did or said? Something that's bothering you? Did I forget something? An anniversary? A birthday? I'm sorry if I did, but please just tell me. I feel like there's something going wrong and I want to fix it."

"It's not you-"

"If it's not me, then what it is? Clara, I'm begging you," he implored her, "Is there someone else? Have you changed your mind about us? Clara-"

"I'm pregnant," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

The moment she had said those words Clara knew she couldn't stick around to see the look on his face. She didn't want to see his reaction, so she turned around and darted out of the car and across the front lawn, only stopping when the front door was firmly closed and locked behind her. She couldn't face John. Not now.